The Halflings

Deserts usually don't frost

Conan~

    Arin came to pick me up from the cell that day. Why I was in a cell, is none of your business.

I assure you, it wasn't anything super illegal.

The walls were painted grey, and so was the floor. And the ceiling. Literally everything was grey. I'm sure I looked a little grey too.

    It wasn't like I wasn't used to the place.  I'd been there, what, three times before?

   I knew the metaphorical neighbourhood pretty well. I was practically the mayor.

   There's this old homeless guy in the cell across from me. He's blind, sort of crazy, but, you know, he's cool. 

  The warden is always asleep, or he's eating. He's this really fat guy who always seems to have a sunburn. Or a fever. 

  And then, there's me. Conan Woods. Conan the Great. Sir Conan of spray paint and vandalism.

   I shivered. They'd taken my coat when they caught me last night.  That coat was the only thing standing between me and hypothermia.

   I don't care if I live in Arizona. I'm always cold, even in the summer. I don't know why, I mean, Arizona.

   I looked at my hands. My fingers were kind of blue. It could just be the lighting though. I touch the inside of my wrist, and find that they're actually freezing cold.

Nope, not the lighting.

The warden waddled over, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a cell door being unlocked.

"Your sister's paid your bail. Go on."

I stood, confused. I didn't think minors could pay bail. Of course, my sister had a way of looking twenty three. I've asked her about it, and she just told me it was called 'being hot'.

Which is totally unfair, because we're twins. I just look six.

Warily, I walked out, and collected my stuff at the desk. I noticed they'd given me an empty duffle bag.

"Dude, where's my paint?"

The officer behind the desk raised his head and grunted.

"What, kid?"

I scowled. Wasn't it the law that they had to give me all my stuff back? Ha! Picture that! Me, a somewhat-criminal caring about the law.

"My paint, sir. Where is my paint?"

The cop rolled his eyes and dragged the duffle bag off the desk. He disappeared into the back room for a while, but soon emerged with a black bag full of spray paint cans.

    "Thank you officer."

And then, for a dramatic flourish, I gave him my best Good Boy smile. Which didn't work, because he's a cop, and I'm, generally, not a good boy.

"Your sister's out front. Scat."

I walked away, stuffing my arms into my coat. The big, heavy, goose down jacket was cool from being in a storage locker. I scowled, and crossed the hall into the lobby.

Arin sat on a chair- the kind that usually smell funny, and have squarish metal legs.

She was reading a magazine, and her inhumanly long hair was draped over the row of chairs. 

  She did that sometimes. Putting her hair over things. It was her way of saying 'go away, this is mine'.

One time, she had a boyfriend. Pretty cool guy, actually. Anyway, he didn't last long.

I think he was allergic to her shampoo.

I cleared my throat, and she looked up.

"Conan."

Her big green eyes narrowed in disapproval. I rolled mine.

We would have been identical twins if we weren't different genders.

   She put down the magazine, and stood up.

   "I can't believe you got caught. Again."

Arin put on her coat. It was black leather, and she wore it everywhere.

Of course, she wasn't as sensitive to cold as I am, so it spent most of it's days tied around her waist.

"Do you think I meant to? This isn't exactly a leisure palace, Arin."

She pushed open the door.

"Whatever."

Arin flicked her hair behind her shoulders in that way she does that always gives me the signal to shut up.

You don't push your sister when she thinks she's won an argument.

The air outside was like a slap to the face. It was summer. In Arizona. And it was noon.

  I've already said I'm constantly cold, but that's body temperature.

This, this was unnatural.

    I watched a leaf fall off a tree onto an obviously frosted lawn.

My stomach tightened, and panic gripped me. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.

And trust me, my bones don't lie.